This Saturday however things were going a little different. Jessie was at overload, about to throw a brain breaker, so she went off to take a shower and put on her makeup. That's how she collects her thoughts. It's a process akin to a medieval knight putting on armor. I knew she needed the time out, so Joey and I...and Jubie just sat in the kitchen and visited. I put on Revolver, Joey likes the old Beatles albums.
"So Jubie can talk..." I asked "what does he say?" "Whatever he wants, you know like about his food and about us and about the cats...he doesn't use words, he talks in pictures, and know what?" Five-year-olds are always testing your knowledge. "He can tell me if he's sad or scared or mad or happy... He's sad and scared now." Joey looked troubled.
"My friend says Jubie can feel the children hurting too...and the animals hurting." Tears spilled from his eyes as he ran to me. My heart came flying into my throat. "Dad, we gotta save 'em, Dad somebody's hurting them." Jubie followed Joey right up to my lap with an alert protectiveness. He stuck his head between us, almost forcing us apart. I was too preoccupied with comforting Joey to think much about it.
Besides, I could hear the voices again...Calling. My stomach balled into a knot. As Joey wept in my lap, I was overcome by a crushing sadness. Tears came to my eyes. We sat there in the kitchen for several minutes, holding each other, wishing we could push the voices away, grasping for some relief in each others arms. "Not my child!" I kept thinking "You can't have my child." But it was too late. Whatever it was, the Awakening had my child...and me, and there was nothing I could do about it. I felt lost. I just wanted those voices to go away.
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